by Jon Chaisson
Poe sat next to her, rubbing the back of his head and leaning against the wall. He opened his mouth, and then shut it just as quickly. Instead he slowly got to his feet, grunted and wavered, and pulled out a cigarette. He held it between two fingers, but did not light it just yet. She looked up at him, into his dark eyes, but this time chose not to read what was on his mind. She would not invade his thoughts if he didn't want her in there. Perhaps some minds were not meant to be read. He held out his hand and helped her up.
In a surprising move, once she was on her feet, he embraced her.
“Ow! Alec?!” she squirmed.
I'm sorry, Karinna. But we're not ready for this. Not yet.
She froze when she heard the voice. It was Poe's…but it was beautiful. Goddess, it was angelic, so rich and full of love! It was his True Self talking, from behind that wall. It sounded pure and heartfelt...it sounded regal. It stopped her cold. He knew something, if not about this man then about himself, that even he couldn't bring himself to accept yet. She looked down on Gordan, and realized the only thing she could do now was pray for him.
Sa’im taftika, sehnadha, Poe said from within, touching her on the shoulder.
CHAPTER FIVE
Intersection
The Sentinel ambulance arrived quicker than Poe had expected, only ten minutes after Caren keyed in the emergency codes, and the medic team saw to him in short order. His nerves were still shot from the adrenalin rush, and rubbed at his sore shoulder from where he'd hit the wall. They sprayed an anti-inflammatory on it, but truth be told, it didn’t hurt nearly as much as he’d expected. Nothing was broken or torn. He’d waved off any further assistance, and instead moved off to the side to watch the responders work over Gordan’s pitiful form. Miraculously he’d only suffered a broken arm and some internal injuries, but within…?
Caren had scanned him, only to recoil in shock at what had been done to him. Saisshalé had forcibly wrenched the man’s soul from his body, nearly destroyed it, only to leave it connected by a single life thread. He was alive…but just barely.
Poe glanced over at Caren, who had remained close to Gordan's body until he was taken away to a nearby hospital. The east Branden Hill precinct sergeant listened to her report with detached amusement, maybe even a little boredom, as she gave him the report. He must have been recording the interview with his eyecam, but his attention seemed elsewhere. Caren had barked at him twice already, only to be reminded of their respective ranks each time. While everyone else in the area was calming down, she was only getting more worked up.
Their backup team, Agents Sheila Kennedy and Nick Slater, had arrived minutes after the ambulances had arrived. They kept to the rear and left them alone, waiting for everything to settle down first. They were parked in front of the appliance store where Saisshalé and Gordan stood minutes before, surveying the damage. Sheila set her eyes on specific things — the crash in the street, the shattered storefront and the area surrounding it — and casting out short tendrils of sensing energy, taking a note of the levels she uncovered. Nick, on the other hand, paced quickly from one point to another, glancing up and down the street with a deep frown. He was searching for something, but Goddess knew what.
Poe turned back to Caren. She was still talking to the sergeant, but had motioned to him. How's the shoulder? he heard her ask from within.
Sore, but I'll live, he responded. Second team's up front. I'll fill them in.
Caren nodded again and turned back to the officer. Got it. I’ll find you as soon as I’m done. She shifted her full attention towards the sergeant again, continuing her report. Satisfied that this debacle was squared away, he headed towards the end of the alley.
“Hey.” A thin man in a blue smock stepped out from an open doorway, stubby fingers curled around a cigarette. He took a deep breath and exhaled pointedly in Poe's direction.
Poe waved the smoke away face and flashed his badge. “ARU,” he said. “I need to ask you a few questions.” The man glared at him and stopped short of saying no shit, really? Poe dismissed the man’s insolence. “Did you happen to witness anything?”
The man grimaced and pointed the cigarette at Caren. “Only that she beat the shit out of that big guy. Damn near broke through the wall and into my shop.”
Poe bowed deeply, as was procedure. “For that we apologize, edha. We should not have damaged your property. You may file a complaint with our headquarters on Baird Avenue, and they will compensate for any damages.”
“Forget the spiel, I’ve already called,” he waved at him. “Needs a new masonry job anyway. Could you at least tell those damn freaks not to phase in behind my store next time? They've got the whole fucking block shut down now and I'm losing money.”
Poe goggled at him. Money? A psychotic Shenaihu nuhm’ndah was loose in the neighborhood and had nearly killed someone just behind his store, and he was more worried about losing a profit? He couldn’t tell if the man was ignorant or just plain stupid. “Again, we apologize, sir,” was all he could say.
“Pfft. Our saviors,” he crowed and flicked the cigarette into the alley. “Come back when you get rid of all those damned freaks, then I’ll be happy.” He pushed the back door open, and after a lingering glance over his shoulder and a disappointed shake of the head, he slammed it shut and locked all the bolts.
“Who was that?” Caren asked, walking up to him.
“Building owner,” he said unevenly, staring at the closed door. Did that conversation just happen? “He didn't see much at all,” he said. “Apparently you did a number on his back wall.”
Caren looked back at the wall. A good bit of masonry had broken away, revealing an older concrete base underneath. The width of the hole was impressive. The man had truly been a monster. She turned back to him and shrugged. “Yeah, well, life goes on, doesn't it?”
Poe looked at her, then at the wall, then at the closed door. Yes, stranger things had happened around here, but never all in tandem. He shook his head and headed towards the end of the alleyway. “That it does,” he said. “You okay?”
“Me?” she nodded, jamming freshly bandaged fists into her pockets. “I'm fine. Winded and hurt, and that jackass of a sergeant wouldn’t take me seriously, but otherwise I’m fine.”
He glanced over and met her eyes. She was no longer fuming or venting misplaced anger; she had gotten her chaotic energy under control. She was still angry, but she was calm. “Good,” he said.
They met up with Sheila and Nick in front of the hardware store. All the front windows had blown inwards from the energy blast. Sheila had just finished questioning a wiry older man, presumably the owner of the store, who fussed and frowned at the destruction within. Miraculously he had survived unscathed, but it had done a number on his business.
“Pashyo,” Nick said, staring at the tattered window frame. All the glass had shattered, and even the metal frames had been torn and bent out of their casings. It had been one hell of a strong blast. “What the hell happened here?” he asked.
“Assault and battery with intent to murder,” Poe said. “Didn't take you long to get here.”
“We were coming back from a warehouse run,” Sheila said. “Headed here as soon as we heard your call to Cilla.” She nodded at Poe, gesturing behind him. “They've already got the block cordoned off. We’re looking at another nuhm’ndah attack, aren’t we?”
Poe let Caren tell the story while he kept an eye on the surroundings. The skittish younger Metro Police officers had spread out down the strip, maintaining order, though none strayed close to the hardware store where they stood. Metro had assumed this was an ARU job since his team was already here, giving them only minimal backup. No one was taking the situation seriously at all.
Caren was right, Saisshalé’s energy attack should not have been that powerful. Even a master Wielder of Light would have had difficulty conjuring up that much energy to release. Unless he'd directly channeled the Rain of Light, which was a high improbability. Someone or something must h
ave supplied him with that energy.
Someone like Natianos Lehanna, he shivered.
“Goddess,” he mumbled to himself, moving away from the others. He realized he was still twiddling that cigarette in his hand, and decided to light it up.
He was bothered by what he’d said earlier. That voice he'd used on Caren...the one that had told her to be patient. Where had he summoned those words? More to the point, whose voice was it? It was of course his voice, but it did not sound even remotely like him. It sounded all too calm, too confident. He ruled out the Shenaihu side of his cho-nyhndah spirit for the moment; he didn't think it had a voice other than a series of angry grunts and bleats. This was something different. It was ancient and sacred. And it scared the hell out of him.
Saisshalé. Where had he heard that name before?
Poe let the name float through his thoughts as he stared at the large vidmat on the far wall, slowly pacing through the channels. It was just past eleven and all the networks had switched over to NewsComm feed for the next two hours. It had been almost two weeks, and the Awakening and the failed Ascension were still hot topics. He'd fielded all kinds of questions from the personal to the profane during those first days, and he’d responded to each one with the scripted ARU report released to the public. He had no reason nor the temptation to reveal anything else at this time.
Then Saisshalé appears, and all his cho-nyhndah senses and emotions are set off at once. Irritation. Anger. Disgust. Fear.
Fascination.
The man had appeared, and his spirit had yearned to follow him without question.
Call me Saisshalé.
Grand Reptile, in Anjshé. A reference to an old, forgotten vengeance god.
Words spoken within had never resonated like that, spiritually and physically. A name alone would not have brought up his defenses, and yet somewhere deep inside, it was a fearful name indeed. What manner of spiritual being was he? Poe had tried to sense his presence — he'd grown accustomed to sensing the difference between the warmth of a Mendaihu and the chill of a Shenaihu — and felt nothing. He sensed less than nothing...he sensed a void. The absence of both spirits. Perhaps he held an altogether different kind of spirit. Not cho-nyhndah, and certainly not the strange mix of yin-yang spirits that encompassed them.
What manner of spirit was this Saisshalé?
He had come close to asking Chief Inspector Farraway that very question during the Questioning sessions earlier today. It had not been the right time though, and more importantly he didn't want bring up something that could have been more trouble than it was worth. Caren had taken him on and had put up an honorable fight, and that was enough for now.
He pulled out a cigarette from the nearly empty pack on the coffee table and lit it up. This line of thinking was threatening to keep him up tonight. He was too tired to do anything else, yet still too shaken by the day's events to let it go just yet. He took a long drag and looked out the long set of windows that made up the eastern wall of the living room. If he chose to, he could get off his ass and sit by those windows like he always did. He would calm himself by watching the late night pedestrians, the automated delivery transports, or just the near-silence of an empty street. From the couch, however, he could only see one thing, and it was not what he was in the mood for looking at right now. The Mirades Tower glimmered from its hundreds of lower office windows, still wide awake and watching everyone. The damned place was hard to hide from sometimes.
—vrddddddddit——vrddddddddit—
The vidmat channel froze its image, small white numbers flashing in the corner, asking if he wanted to answer the incoming call. He rarely got calls on the vidmat this time of night. Who would be calling him? Caren, perhaps? No, she always reached him by comm. He let it ring one more time, just enough for the vidmat to track the call. It was a Pullock Street Heights residence that he recognized immediately, and let the call through.
Akaina Shalei lifted her head at the vidmat cam and smiled at him. The kind of warm, appreciative smile she gave whenever they connected. Her glossy black hair, nearly always tied up in a tight ponytail, now hung loose about her shoulders and tucked behind her ears, framing her slightly tanned face, the glow of a desk lamp turned to its lowest brightness creating soft lines of shadow. She knew he'd be up this time of night, having his last cigarette of the day and ruminating over the day's events. She'd accepted his odd habits, even his smoking habit, accepting them instead as personal quirks that made him who he was.
“Hey,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Hey yourself,” he said. “Good to hear from you.”
“I haven't interrupted, have I?” she asked quietly. “Sorry I'm whispering, but Ashan's in the next room sleeping. Just thought I'd check in. I was worried about you today.”
“Doing better,” he said.
“Anything I can help you with?”
For a moment he was tempted to ask her about Saisshalé, but again decided against it. He was afraid she would have the answer for him, and he wouldn't be ready for it. He pushed the question away — far away — and instead relayed the day’s events. She'd read the report, though she still reacted with surprise when he spoke of Caren's attempt to bring the man down. In all the years he'd known her, only once did Caren display anger of that magnitude, and that was a few weeks ago.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Thanks for asking anyway. How's business on your end? I hear Anando’s already started classes at the warehouse. Pretty impressive, given the short amount of time.”
Kai nodded proudly. After Denni's failed Ascension, Kai and Ashan had devoted much of her time giving to the new community, offering help and guidance for anyone who asked. They whatever they could to help these people through a particularly tense and confusing time. It wasn’t just a sense of responsibility for them; it was in their nature.
“I've started a self-defense course down there,” she said. “Simple physical skills, things like that. Ashan's teaching an advanced course in soulsensing.”
“I'm glad you're doing this, Kai,” he said.
“I'm glad to be doing it,” she replied.
An uncomfortable silence followed. Kai looked away, delaying the moment just a bit more. He really didn’t mind talking about it, but he was tired and it was late, so perhaps it was best that he didn’t bring it up. He'd get all worked up, which would cause his cho-nyhndah moodiness to kick in, there'd be an argument, and he'd feel like an idiot for the rest of the night. But she understood his situation, probably more so than he did, and always forgave him for all the petty arguments they'd had.
Still, he hated ignoring what needed to be said.
“The nuhm’ndah attack,” he said.
Kai slowly lifted her eyes to meet his. Without a word he could tell that if she were there, she'd be speaking from within, soothing him already. He showed a brief, weak smile before continuing.
“Well, I guess...” he said, and faltered. He could already feel that cold itching, that prodding deep within that was just out of his reach. He took a deep breath and started again. “I guess I'm just concerned about what happened, is all. I mean, it's not that we were the agents there at the time. Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but it's been relatively peaceful since Denni returned. But let’s be honest — it was only a matter of time before another idiot made a move.”
“Alec, it was coincidence that it happened at that time, in that place,” she said. “Many smaller assaults aren’t even getting properly reported. Most Mendaihu would rather settle the score themselves rather than involve the police or the ARU.”
“I know that,” he said. “But this one...this one didn't seem like an ordinary attack. It felt planned. Maybe not to lure Caren and myself, but any Mendaihu in the area.”
Kai frowned at him. “That's not why you're upset, though, is it?”
He shrugged an admission. “It's a bunch of things, Kai. A lot of it didn't sit right with me at all.”
“Anything in particular?�
�� she prodded, squirming in her seat. One of his moods was about to turn again and she waited for it patiently. He felt guilty for subjecting anyone to these fits of anger, but Kai seemed to understand that she should not take it personally, soothing him rather than reacting with equal animosity.
“I’m worried about Caren,” he said. “I know she's cho-nyhndah, and a stronger one than she lets on. But in all the years I’ve known her, I've never seen her react to a situation with such…I don’t know. Violence? It just…it seemed so unlike her.”
“She was protecting edha Milainikos.”
“I believe that Caren acted in the right,” he said. “The man was attacked by a Shenaihu nuhm'ndah. She played by ARU rules and came to his defense by whatever means possible. I wouldn't have used as much force, but she did the job expected of her.”
“So what's the problem?” she asked.
He grumbled and looked away, taking another drag form his cigarette. “The problem is that Caren took the whole thing personally,” he said. “Gordan invoked the name of the One, and she responded in the only way she knows how. She's as much a cho-nyhndah as I am...” He stopped short. No, that couldn’t have been it. There was something more, but he just couldn’t grasp it. He’d heard the man’s words just as she had, and it had nothing to do with Denni. It wasn’t the Shenaihu side of her kicking in. It was something else. Instinct? “I really don't know, Kai. Something is off and it’s bugging the hell out of me because I can’t place what it is.”
“Alec...” she called, her voice soft and warm. “Don't pressure yourself into worrying about her. She's still learning to accept her Awakening, just as you are.”
“But I fucking hate it!” he growled, slamming his fist down on the armrest of the couch. “Pashyo, I hate these damned mood swings! All they do is cloud everything up, and I…” He hit the armrest again and shook his head, cursing at himself Calm yourself, Alix. Don’t let this get out of hand. He took yet another slow breath and got himself under control. “Nyhnd’aladh, Kai. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
